Midnight hours
by GarGoyl
Summary: Mobsters are people you should not mess with and black magic is something you should not use. Or should you? Alin Vasilescu is about to find that out when his busy but otherwise relatively peaceful life takes a dramatic turn… Evil spirit!Prussia/Romania, also spiced with some hints of Evil spirit!Denmark/Norway and occasional crack. Warnings: rated for all the good and bad stuff
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! I have (quite unexpectedly) returned to this fandom, simply because I've got this grand idea and it must be brought to life and put into words… I'm sure my fellow authors know exactly how that feels ;).

So, anyway, it's time to pull the strings of my two favorite Hetalia characters again and bring you a new story which will both scare and amuse you (mostly scare you, hopefully)– because life is not fun without a good scare and because I always end up putting at least _some_ crack in everything I write.

I changed Romania's name in this story because I got bored with 'Valentin'. Not that this new name is awfully original, I just saw it in another story and liked it a lot.

Unlike my other Pru/Ro story, this one will feature many other Hetalia characters in more or less surprising combinations. And Greece will probably be asleep all through the story, so don't expect him to wake up (or attempt to). LOL

P.S. Followers of my other two SE stories who will stumble upon this – do not worry! I do not plan to abandon any of them, so they'll keep going as until now.

* * *

A hand reached from under the blankets and grabbed the ringing mobile from the nightstand as a single ruby red eye peeked sleepily to check the time. _6:00 A.M… Ugh!_ Alin sat up a few seconds later, tossing the covers aside with a groan. He really, really hated waking up early in the morning. And it didn't quite matter whether it was 6:00 A.M. or 8:30 A.M., any imposed hour of waking up was, in his humble opinion, absolutely horrible. Dragging his feet around the small apartment, the Romanian washed, got dressed in his work clothes and eventually ended up in the kitchen, where he plopped down numbly at the table.

"Seriously, Aleks?" he grumbled, rolling his eyes. In front of him there was (yet another) yoghurt jar, next to his coffee cup. The Bulgarian, who was holding his girlfriend slash groupie Elizaveta in his lap, only gave him a benevolent smile. "I mean, I am at work all day and most of the night, so the deal was that since you don't do any other chores, you would at least buy and/or make some food, preferably other than _this_! For fuck's sake, aside from the university and the band, you're here all the time and your girlfriend is constantly brandishing that infernal frying pan and yet none of you cooks anything! As in 'some bacon and eggs never killed anyone'!"

"Alin, we have had this conversation before," Aleksander said softly. "Yoghurt is just the breakfast you need – it has protein, lipids, carbs _and _this one has fruit in it so it has fiber too. Everything your body needs at this hour and it's simply ideal for diets. Trust me, I'm studying to become a doctor after all"

"Yeah, well, I'm not keeping a diet," the Romanian muttered morosely.

"Honestly, Alin, you're such a little… vampire. 'Meat, I want meat!' And junk food, yeah," Elizaveta mocked him maliciously, clawing at him with a funny face.

The strawberry blonde only moved the hand he was currently holding to his temple to give her the finger in reply and grimaced. He then promptly downed the cup of coffee in one gulp and stood to leave. The Romanian stepped out of the miniscule kitchen, just to pop his head back in a moment latter. "Aleks, remind me - why are we brothers again?"

"We are brothers because your mother married my father. Or something…" Aleksander replied. "Anyway you should know this is a very hurtful thing to ask! I love you!" he shouted in his stepbrother's wake. "Am I not giving you enough love?"

_I don't want love right now, I want FOOD! For fuck's sake! _the young man thought petulantly, picking up his peacoat on his way out.

* * *

The lobby of the enormous office building in the City was quite crowded, despite the relatively early hour, and Alin hurried to catch a place in one of the elevators. Checking his watch, the strawberry blonde noticed it was already 7:30. _Damn it, I hope he's not here yet!_ His company's offices were on the fifth floor - the second stop – and he had to squeeze past a courier laden with boxes on his way out. He'd picked the usual incoming mail from the reception on his way up and the pile of papers got squeezed in the process, nearly slipping from his hands. Trying not to drop everything, the young man then stopped to smooth out any potential wrinkles off his suit jacket and trousers before walking through the simple, elegant glass doors which read _Beilschmidt, Edelstein and Karpusi – Accountants, Auditors and Tax Advisors_ in large embossed letters.

_Invoice… invoice… ad flyer… The Wallstreet Journal… The Economist from last week – why the hell from last week? – … another invoice… bank confirmations from RBS… I-don't-know-what-the-hell-is-this… more ad flyers… -_

"Vee, it seems you are late again… Perhaps I'll have your access card blocked one of these days"

Alin lifted his gaze from the pile of papers he was leafing through to see Feliciano Vargas, Mr. Beilschmidt's assistant, standing in the door frame of his boss' office with his arms folded and the usual smug expression which foretold nothing good.

_Oh. Fuck._ "But it's not even eight, is he here already?"

The Italian shook his head, straightening the jacket of his Armani suit and threw a brief glance at his perfectly polished black shoes. "No, _Mr. Beilschmidt_ has not yet arrived. Mr. Karpusi is in his office, but he's not available"

_Didn't think he was…_ "Thank you." Alin shoved the correspondence in the assistant's arms with a forced smile and walked past him towards his own smaller office. He still had some unfinished reports which Ludwig would expect to have on his desk first thing in the morning and the blonde hoped that he would get to work on them some more before the partner-in-charge arrived.

"Don't ignore me, V," Feliciano warned. "You know I'll tell him, right?"

Alin rolled his eyes and stepped into his office, nearly slamming the door behind him. His boss was tough and very demanding, but somehow he lacked that special something which would have also made him obnoxious, on top of everything else. Task successfully accomplished though by his assistant – Feliciano Vargas. The Italian was always dressed impeccably, had a perfect body and was always keeping some sort of absurd diet. And he had a passion for tormenting interns – perhaps the reason why they never lasted long - and junior consultants like Alin, whose last name he was completely unable to pronounce.

The Romanian started his desktop and leafed through his agenda, going through the to-do-list for the day, marking out the documents he would have to sort out and print. And, as expected, it wasn't long before he heard the voice of his boss in the hallway.

* * *

"Do we have the final version of the quarterly reporting package for Shaw ready?" Ludwig Beilschmidt asked, meticulously examining the stack of papers on his desk. "And when did this balance sheet arrive? Are you sure it's final, Alin? I don't see the inventories provision from last month…"

The Romanian nodded. "Yes sir, it appears they made another stock-take last week and all impaired or obsolete items identified were already written off, you'll see the net amount there. The reporting package for Shaw was sent yesterday to them for management review, I've got no reply yet but they'll probably answer by the end of the week"

"Gut. I will also need to review the management letter points report on APH Ltd for the upcoming meeting and I want you to go through the files the two interns have been working on"

"Yes, Mr. Beilschmidt"

The strawberry blonde turned to leave, but his boss stopped him. "Wait a moment…" Ludwig picked up his desk phone and dialed quickly. "Ja, I was wondering if you have reviewed the tax returns for this month? Oh… I see. Alright, I'll ask Vasilescu to do it then…" Groaning, Ludwig hung up and sighed." Heracles has not looked over the tax returns yet… We will need them by tomorrow"

"By tommo-…uh… yes, Mr. Beilschmidt"

"That will be all. Feliciano, get Roderich on the phone _now_ and tell him the kickoff meeting was moved to 11:30! We need to talk so he must be here in half an hour! Oh and, Alin? I thought I told you not to wear that earring in the office…"

"Yes, Mr. Beilschmidt," the Romanian muttered, instantly taking off the small jewel and stuffing it in his pocket. Sighing in temporary relief of having at least escaped his boss for the day, he made his way over to the Greek partner's office, hoping to have the last task on the list sorted quickly. But Heracles Karpusi was asleep as usual and his desk was laden with an indescribable mess of papers, empty coffee mugs and various stationery. The strawberry blonde squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. It would be a very long day…

* * *

Alin had changed into black jeans, matching converses and a striped hoodie over a simple grey shirt. Compared to his everyday office suit, these clothes made him feel both comfortable and invisible, which was a very important issue as far as his second job was concerned. He had not told Aleks anything about the Magic Club, firstly because his stepbrother, like most people, did not actually believe in the existence of magic and secondly because the so-called Magic Club happened to be directly subordinated to MI6. No, there definitely was no need for the Bulgarian to know (and freak out) about his little brother working for the secret services in any way. It was almost 11:00 P.M. and the streets were not so crowded anymore, which was a relief, since he'd chosen to walk all the way. His job did not actually start until midnight, but the Romanian would always spend at least one hour before with his friend Lukas in a nearby pub.

Inside the pub it was fairly dark and the air was heavy with thick smoke and dubious smells. It looked full too, but the Romanian still managed to spot his pale blonde friend sitting at a small table in the back, with a book and a Coke in front of him. For an art student who also did internship in fashion, Lukas clearly looked the part – tonight he wore a pristine white long sleeved shirt and a tweed vest adorned with a statement brooch over a pair of baggy slacks with hanging suspenders. Alin noticed several dubious blokes chugging beers and throwing him interested glances, which the Norwegian remained completely oblivious of.

"What. The. Fuck is this place anyway? It has a bad vibe or something…" he asked, plopping down in front of his friend. The table was so small that their foreheads almost touched. "And why didn't we meet up at Gorgs, as usual?"

"I'm bored with Gorgs and besides, Berwald and his friends are always there," Lukas replied, not lifting his gaze from the book.

"The one with a white cap who looks like a girl and has some impossible name and the other little one with a puffin tattoo on his arm? Never talks much and smells of fish?"

"I know, right? A pair of creepy tossers, those two," the Norwegian confirmed, pushing a pale strand behind his ear. "Tino and Emil, and they work as Berwald's collectors actually. Funny, right? You'd think someone as big and scary as he is would do the collection himself…"

The Romanian dug in his back pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, then took out a spliff and lit it. He took a long drag, inhaling the scented, relaxing smoke. "But I thought you needed Berwald," he said, passing the spliff to his friend. Alin had never snorted cocaine, mainly because there was too much at stake if he were somehow discovered, either by Aleks or his boss, but Lukas did and Berwald was his regular supplier.

"Yeah, well, I suppose I can find someone else…" Lukas said dryly, leaning back in his seat. "You know, someone should tell Kirkland that the black magic market he's worked so hard to eradicate is booming… check out what I grabbed from a little back alley store this weekend," he said, pushing the book over to the Romanian. "It's a book on how to summon yourself a _Grim_. Mate, it's just like a catalogue you can choose from!"

Alin blinked, staring questioningly at the old, yellowed tome. "_Grim_ as in evil spirit one forms a sort of Faustian blood contract with? What the hell do you want to do with it? And don't tell me 'grabbed' means what I think it means…"

The Norwegian rolled his eyes, passing back the spliff. "Arthur has a _familiar_, so why can't we? And yeah, I stole it, okay? It wasn't like I could afford it, anyway"

"Arthur has a flying mint bunny, Lukas! A _Grim_ is hardly what anyone would call a regular 'familiar'. Not to mention, leaving aside the fact that use of black magic is actually restricted by law, why would you want a Grim?"

"The fucking flying mint bunny is useless, unless you're five years old or something… this guy however," Lukas said, turning at another page and pointing to the picture of a sinister looking Viking, holding an enormous, double bladed battle axe. "Oh, this would clearly solve all of my problems…" the pale blonde said, sensuously running a black nailed, delicate finger over the weapon.

"What, the axe?"

Lukas chewed on his lip, then raised his midnight blue gaze to look his friend in the eye for a brief second, before lowering it back to the book. "Um… I've got a bit of a problem with Berwald actually… See, he made me come to one of his stupid parties a week ago because I couldn't pay him on time and he…" the blonde leaned closer, over the table, to whisper in his friend's ear, "he got me a fucking _client_, Alin, can you realize that, a client and I took a lot, because I thought that if I take, like, A LOT, it won't be completely horrible and disgusting and all, but it was, it was so fucking bad! And afterwards, well, I was really upset so I stole Berwald's wallet and I… might have used his credit card for a little shopping round on Sunday…"

"You _WHAT_?!" The Romanian fumbled with his pack and pulled out another spliff, with a horrified expression. "Lukas, have you gone mad?! Berwald is very dangerous! He will _at least_ put you in the hospital when he finds out! Unless you… apologize or something…"

"Not if the Grim takes care of things and all I have to do is let him have a bit of my blood every now and then! Done worse…" the other young man replied, while Alin rubbed his brow shaking his head, grimacing. "I already made my choice, listen to this – Mathias Kohler was turned into a Grim after he singlehandedly slaughtered one hundred and fifty-"

"Lukas, you can't summon a fucking Grim!" the other blonde interrupted, pushing the book away. "We're in the Magic Club, we just don't do this kind of shit, remember? And it's dangerous, you don't know if he won't actually end up hurting you instead and … I mean, do you want him running around killing people?"

"Only people who want to hurt me…" The Norwegian pouted and slid his hand across the table, intertwining his fingers with the strawberry blonde's. "Come on, Alin, you're my only friend. Don't tell Arthur, okay?

The Romanian eventually rolled his eyes and sighed. "Alright, fine… But if this results in some spectacular shit, don't fucking expect _me_ to fix it!"

'Sure, love." Lukas tore the page from the book and set it aside, pouring a line of white powder on top of the Viking's picture. Pushing his hair back behind his ear, he snorted repeatedly, then wiped his nose and the faintest shadow of a smile crept on his lips. "Yeah… fuck Berwald"

_**To be continued**_


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

A/N – Hello everyone! Today I have decided not to pester you with long tedious author notes which only 'eat up' the actual text, so guess what – no more of this ;)

* * *

Alin had taken a momentary refuge in a bathroom stall, away from the deafening music blaring from the speakers and the lasers which now barely pierced the smoke filled atmosphere of the club. Lukas was somewhere out there, already shitfaced and stoned out of his mind, but it was okay, it was Friday and they were finally done with all the tedious paperwork Arthur had buried them in lately at the Magic Club. The Romanian was also after a tough last few days in the office. Checking the almost overdue tax returns which weren't his responsibility anyway had been nothing short of nightmarish, especially since he hated the anything having to do with fiscal regulations. He'd had a few shots of vodka too, but the strawberry blonde was relatively good at holding his liquor and after this he could just go home and drop in his comfortable bed. Or so he thought.

Just as he was about to step out, Alin was pushed back inside forcefully by a giggling Lukas. When sober, the Norwegian barely ever smiled, let alone laughed, so this could only mean that he was very, _very_ drunk.

"I've a bit of a problem…" he slurred, throwing away the half smoked spliff and grinning seductively all the sudden.

The strawberry blonde rolled his eyes. "I can see that." He tried again to get out, but the other blonde shut the door promptly, almost in his face.

The Norwegian bit his lower lip and moved closer, to whisper in his ear. "Oh, come now, love! I _don't want _anything, you _don't have time_ for anything, we're a match made in Hell or something… Can't you see?"

"But I-"

"I know, you don't see the point…" the pale blonde said, running a finger sensuously along the other young man's jaw. "And there is no point, just like it wasn't the last time, or the time before that, other than that I need one and you probably need it as well"

What the fuck was he doing, Alin wondered, as Lukas began to kiss him and, just like several times before, he let him. It was good, truth be told, it always was - because his friend was good at this – and the Romanian didn't mind, because he sort of swung both ways and as far as he was concerned, Lukas looked kind of ambiguous to begin with. But he didn't love Lukas, not _that way _at any rate. Of course, Alin cared a lot about the Norwegian as a friend, aside from being endlessly amused how someone looking like a fairy prince could in fact be a complete troll in disguise. And, just like his friend had pointed, he had no time for a relationship. But then his own mouth was on the other blonde's throat, nipping and sucking gently as Lukas moaned and hastily fumbled with their clothing.

"Talk…ah… to me…" Lukas pleaded, wrapping his legs around the other young man's waist, shoving him against the wall once more. "Tell me something… dirty, really…mhhh, mean…" he murmured, prepping himself slowly. "Or poetic, hah… if you want. "

Alin's hands slipped under the other blonde's shirt, grazing his nails onto the soft skin. "_Light as a feather my love seems to be, yet his stone-like burden ends up crushing me_" he solemnly recited chuckling before the Norwegian crushed his lips against his, panting as he finally eased onto him and guided the strawberry blonde's long, slender fingers around his member.

"Ahhhh, yeeeessssssssss! S-so good, hah!" Lukas cried, eventually reaching his peak and soon after making his friend come as well. After which Alin's phone suddenly began to ring. "Mhhh… d-don't answer…" the Norwegian mumbled tiredly, slumping against his shoulder. "Let's… c-cuddle or s-something," he slurred.

Still panting, the Romanian pulled out the phone and scowled at the lit screen. "It's Arthur," he informed dryly. "Now get off me and clean this mess while I see what he wants," he said, digging in his back pocket and producing a pack of napkins which he promptly shoved in Lukas' hand. "H-hello?"

"Listen to me very carefully now," the Englishman got to the point from the other end of the line, without any other introduction. "My other operational team has finally put together a file on the infamous Francis Bonnefoy, also known as the 'Evil Pâtissier'. I want you and Bondevik to have a look at it first thing on Monday, because I won't be in the office!"

"C-certainly, boss, will do… anything else?"

"Are you alright? You're… breathing hard or something"

"Actually I was in the bathroom, fixing a pipe. I-it took a bit of work…"Alin improvised, instantly getting roughly elbowed in the stomach by his glaring colleague. He nodded some more, sighing. "Yes, of course. Goodnight, Mr. Kirkland." _As if it wasn't 3 in the fucking morning…_

* * *

"Let's go up on the roof, I need some fresh air," Lukas suggested. Dragging the stumbling Romanian, who had downed another few shots of vodka in the meantime, he pushed his way through the crowd filled dance floor, eventually reaching a door marked as 'authorized personnel only'. It was locked, but of course no lock could hold against his 'multifunctional' hairpin. They found themselves in a narrow, dark hallway ending up in an even narrower and darker staircase, but the Norwegian had sneaked in there before.

They stumbled badly on the stairs, almost to the point they were about to tumble down, a thing which only got them both in a mad fit of giggles. Then Lukas kicked an old, rusty metal door with his boot and they were finally up on the roof. The sudden rush of fresh air helped Alin to get back to his senses a bit, but he was still seriously dizzy now and simply plopped down on the hard concrete, drawing a deep breath.

"Y'know, your poems would be good, I think, if only they weren't so ambiguous," the pale blonde said, sitting down beside his friend, however with somewhat greater care not to crease his trousers or the large silk ribbon hanging low on his right hip. "Like for example," he went on, digging into his pocket and getting out another spliff. "I wasn't sure earlier if you meant to say that you love me, or that you think I'm fat. For your sake though, it had better been the first option"

Alin only chuckled in reply. "I thought you wanted to hear something dirty and mean," he pointed, but Lukas wasn't paying attention anymore. He had tilted his head upwards and blew soft clouds of smoke towards the dark blue sky with a dreamy expression.

"Mate, did you know that Vikings used the stars to n-navigate?" he slurred a bit. "I mean, I love stars, they're beauuuuutiful but… I could never…_navigate_… I mean, fuck, all I see is this spotty mess of sorts up there. So I don't get-" Lukas suddenly fell silent, his eyes widening as he saw something behind them. "Uh-oh…" Alin turned too, only to see one of Berwald's two friends slash collectors, the silver haired boy named Emil, with a sinister expression on his otherwise childish features and holding a baseball bat with both hands.

"Shit!" the strawberry blonde breathed, making an effort to stand up and block the Icelander's way, while Lukas simply stumbled away, utterly horrified for once and willing to put as much distance between them as possible on the relatively narrow roof.

"Look mate, let's talk this over, yeah? T-there's no need to-"

The boy said nothing, only clenching his fingers on the baseball bat as he took a step forward.

"Listen, I really think you should put that down," Alin interfered, trying to get a hold of him, "I know Lukas fucked up and you lads have all the right to be angry, but he's going to give all the money back, okay? Just tell Berwald he'll get his money back!"

But Emil only shook his head, weighing his weapon impatiently. "Out of my way," he growled in a low voice, his dark purple eyes trained on the Norwegian. Then he lunged forward, ducking swiftly and dodging Alin – who momentarily failed to grab him – and swung the bat in earnest. The Romanian did manage eventually to get a hold of the hood of his sleeveless shirt, pulling him back a bit and making him miss the blow. He'd probably aimed for the head or the upper torso, but now the bat hit Lukas' thigh, just below the hip, yet hard enough to make him cry in pain and collapse on the ground as his leg gave out.

"Get the fuck off me!" the silver haired boy grumbled as Alin was still struggling to hold him back from his friend and turned quickly, shoving the bat into the blonde's stomach. The Romanian doubled over, coughing and moaning, but recovered fast enough to grab the end of the baseball bat, pulling the boy closer with it and head-butting him as hard as he could.

Emil fell on his back, blood gushing from his broken nose and the bat flying from his hand, while Alin panted heavily, clutching his stomach in pain and pondering his next move. But then the rusty roof door opened again, this time revealing Berwald's other collector. "Oh, fuck, it's Tino what's-his-name…" he murmured, instantly realising that now things were really bad.

"Emil!" Tino cried, rushing towards them and Lukas suddenly grabbed the strawberry blonde's arm, pulling him quickly towards the edge of the roof.

"Come on, mate, we need to get out of here! Now!"

"Lukas, what-?" the Romanian asked, glancing downwards – there were at least twenty meters to the ground, but the pale blonde climbed the railing, pulling him relentlessly. "No! Lukas, you're drunk, this won't wo-" But in the next second they were in mid-air, falling freely. And even though the Norwegian's spell managed to slow down their fall, landing on the bare concrete below was still a nasty business.

Alin cursed, whimpering in pain and currently convinced that all his bones must have been broken, while his friend glanced up at the bewildered expressions of Berwald's two employees and calmly gave them the finger with both hands. However, his composure somehow crumbled the moment Tino pulled out a gun and aimed it at his head.

"Quick, let's get out of here, now!" Lukas urged, dragging his friend after him while still limping himself and waving for a cab.

* * *

"Idiot, if you're trying to kill me it's working!" the strawberry blonde muttered, pulling the tight jacket around himself as he sat crammed in the backseat of the shitty cab. "Just… take me home… will you?" he pleaded, squeezing his eyes shut and whimpering in pain. "I can't fucking believe this…"

"Look mate, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't think he'd discover it so soon, before I got the chance to have things sorted," Lukas replied, "And no, we're not going home, we're going back to the office. It's only 4:30, there's no one there at this hour and tomorrow it's Saturday anyway."

Alin cracked one eye open and struggled to push himself up a little. "_What?_ I want to go to bed, you tosser, I feel bad! What the hell do you want to do in the blasted office at this hour?"

"Summon the fucking Grim, what else?" the Norwegian said and rolled his eyes as his friends mouth opened to protest. "Honestly, what else is there to do? You really thought I could apologise to Berwald? That Vainamoinen chap had _a gun_, in case you didn't notice!"

Stumbling and cursing, Arthur Kirkland's assistants made their way back to the creepy looking offices beneath the dull old building which currently hosted some unknown public institution nobody ever bothered with. The staircase leading below proved to be quite a challenge and at the end of it Lukas fumbled with the keys for a while, dropping them twice and muttering a comprehensive row of swears in all the languages he knew. Eventually they made their way into the Magic Club offices, which were large, dark, dusty and had probably been last decorated somewhere back in the sixties.

Alin dropped helplessly into a large armchair in their shared office, while the other blonde scurried into the small adjacent kitchenette and started the coffee machine. Shortly afterwards, he returned with two cups of steaming espresso, shoving one into the Romanian's hands.

"There, hot, no milk, no sugar. Drink it and sober up, we need to get to work!" Sipping from his cup, Lukas dug under the pile of papers on his desk and pulled out the black magic tome he'd stolen recently. He turned the yellowed, crumbling pages to where he'd hidden the folded picture of his chosen Grim and held it up carefully with two fingers."Come on," he said, walking up and placing the book in Alin's lap, "I need you to read me the instructions while I proceed"

The strawberry blonde squinted at the instructions page and shook his head. _This is a very bad idea..._ "Okay, you need to draw a medium pentagram directly on stone or... well we've got cement but-"

Lukas tsked, looking around. "I'll draw it in the fireplace, it's large enough and made of stone." He picked a piece of chalk and hastily began drawing.

"Right... now you must cover the surface with a generous layer of black herbs and...um... I think it says here you must set everything on fire"

"Alright, what now?" the Norwegian asked grimacing some five minutes later, choking in the stinking smoke emanating from the bluish-green flames now dancing inside the pentagram.

"Now you must spit over the flames, summon the Grim and toss his picture inside"

The pale blonde followed the instructions exactly. "And now I summon thee, Mathias Kohler!" he shouted, tossing the old paper into the flames and taking a few steps back. Something like a thundering boom resounded, followed by a powerful gale of wind, and Alin curled up in the armchair, tossing the book and the coffee cup aside and squeezing his eyes shut. When he reopened them, he saw the Viking from Lukas' picture – now in the flesh – ducking and stepping out of the fireplace. The stinking flames were gone and the drawing with them, in fact everything looked as if nothing had ever happened, except that_ he_ was there.

Mathias Kohler was tall and muscular, with short but wild, windswept blonde hair and bright blue eyes. His clothes looked ancient – some rough leather trousers and a simple gray fur vest opened at the front, and thick bronze cuffs encircling his wrists. But the Romanian's gaze was instantly drawn to the long handled, double bladed axe which shone wickedly in the artificial light. He sunk into the armchair as much as he could, wishing he could just disappear.

Fortunately, the Viking paid him no attention whatsoever as his eyes were currently trained on Lukas, who simply stood there with his usual blank face, observing him silently.

"Hey there, princess!" Mathias eventually said, his fearsome countenance suddenly and unexpectedly melting as his mouth widened into an obnoxious grin. Now Alin might have been scared, but the Norwegian's displeased expression was absolutely priceless.

"My name is Lukas Bondevik - not 'princess' - and I am from now on your contractor," his friend said dryly, crossing his arms.

The Viking took a step closer, looking curious and rather puzzled. "Oh, you're _a boy_?" He suddenly kneeled down in front of Lukas and confusedly fingered the light blue-and-white striped ribbon hanging from his hip. "Is this... silk?" If anything, he seemed even more puzzled now.

"Yes, just don't... touch me," the Norwegian promptly smacked his hand away, before pulling out a tailoring meter out of his pocket. "Now, you'll be needing some new clothes," he added, glancing up and down Mathias' torso as he stood up. "There's no way I'll let you wander around dressed in... what _is_ that anyway...?"

In reply the Viking only laughed loudly and shook his head. "No, no, no! "You're not getting me all trussed up in silk ribbons, _princess_! Do you understand?" he said, lightly pinching Lukas' nose with his free hand. The other blonde instantly snapped and shouted something, angrily, causing Kohler to laugh some more, but Alin did not get to hear the rest of the conversation as he eventually fell asleep in the armchair.

_**To be continued**_


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

A/N – Hello everyone and a Fantastic and Happy New Year! I have a big thanks and a hug to give you for the reviews, favourites and follows. They really make my day every single time, so much appreciated ;) Other than that, I won't bug you with introductions I'm not inspired at anyway LOL.

And YES, the awesome Prussia will appear at last!

* * *

"H-hello?" Alin's mind could not momentarily process anything past the fact that it was very, _very_ early in the morning. Yes, it was Monday, but still... He scrubbed a hand over his face, uselessly trying to chase away the dizziness.

"Where are you?! Get in here. Now!" Feliciano's voice urged from the other end of the line, even more ominous than usual, and hung up before the Romanian could even ask what on Earth was going on all the sudden. But panic instantly took over the last remnants of sleep and the strawberry blonde jumped from the bed almost on automatic pilot, still clutching the mobile absentmindedly. _What the hell? What the hell was THAT? _Wracking his brains in an attempt to ascertain just what could have possibly happened, he got dressed as fast as he could.

The small kitchen was cold and no coffee smell wafted from it like in other mornings since it was way too early for Aleks and Elizaveta to have woken up, but Alin was in no mood for as much as a cup of coffee. He hurriedly picked his peacoat on his way out, almost forgetting to lock the door in his wake.

* * *

The elegant glass doors which read _Beilschmidt, Edelstein and Karpusi – Accountants, Auditors and Tax Advisors _were suspiciouslywide open as the Romanian stepped out of the now empty elevator panting. Running a nervous hand through his wind tousled hair, he made his way inside, cautiously. _What the-...?_

Feliciano Vargas was leaning casually on the empty receptionist's desk, fingering his Blackberry with a careless expression. "Ah. There you are. I thought you should be here and find out as soon as possible. I suppose Mr. Beilschmidt will want to have a word with you too," he said neutrally.

Alin threw a wary glance at the open doors of the individual offices and noticed in complete confusion that various papers were scattered randomly onto the navy blue carpet of the hallway. "But... what happened here?"

"Barely an hour ago HMRC (_A/N – HM Revenue & Customs_) barged in here with the police and confiscated all our laptops and several client files. I had just gotten here myself and-"

"_WHAT?!_" the strawberry blonde interrupted him, in utter shock. "Why would they do such a thing?!"

"It seems our highly esteemed and long time client Adnan&Jones has been charged with 5.2 million pounds tax evasion. And since we're their accountants and tax consultants, it looks like we're all going to jail. They'll be back here later and they'll want to take a statement from all employees, so don't go anywhere"

Alin blinked, trying to process what the Italian was saying, as a jolt of panic shot through his stomach. "W-what? This must be some misunderstanding! I need to speak to Mr. Beilschmidt!"

"Mr. Beilschmidt is not available right now," Feliciano replied quickly, but the Romanian pushed past him and made his way into his boss' office. But he wasn't there, instead Alin saw him through the glass wall in the Austrian partner's office. Ludwig had slammed his fists on the table and was currently shouting, while Roderich Edelstein sobbed silently in his large chair, with his nose buried in an embroidered silk handkerchief.

"You knew he was shady and you still wanted him in, Roddy! You brought him!" Ludwig yelled. "And I thought he just didn't do anything, that he just slept all day, but he was doing something, he was fucking us! Hard!"

"Do you really have to be so vulgar?" Roderich whined, sniffing some more."And how could I have imagined such a thing? He was highly recommended, you know..."

"Where is Mr. Karpusi?" Alin asked with a scowl.

"Far away by now, if you ask me," Ludwig's secretary replied. "Adnan&Jones 'saved' the 5.2 million pounds from cigarette import excises, by the way. Mr. Karpusi took care of the customs tax returns for them and probably got his share of this amount. But that's not the worst part – he somehow made sure that the tax returns pdf files and supporting warehouse documentation were accessed by everyone else – Mr. Beilschmidt, Mr. Edelstein too, he asked me to print him some once, asked the two interns to have a look at some point and you checked the last month's due last week. So they've been accessed from all of our computers and that involves all of us. Like I said, boss thinks we're all going to jail"

"But I reviewed the statements of last month and there was nothing... nothing strange about them..."

"Perhaps because there was nothing peculiar last month, but this has been going on for the last three years"

Alin suddenly found it hard to breathe and pulled desperately at his tie. _No, no, no! This can't be... this is not possible! _He couldn't go to jail - he hadn't moved to England, studied all these years, worked so hard to keep up with both work and his ACCA exams just to have it all go down the drain now!And what would happen to Aleks and _his_ studies? And his mother would be so disappointed, no, she would be crushed by the news!

"B-but... can't they find-... I mean Mr. Karpusi..."

"I called his residence and just found out that he had terminated his rent agreement a month ago. Do you realise it, V? He was living in a fucking hotel with his bags packed. He knew this was going to happen, so now he's long gone, and with plenty of money too"

The Romanian felt like he was going to be sick. His fingers slipped to his back pocket with a will of their own and fished the pack of spliffs. He never smoked while at work, but now it didn't matter anymore. He walked into the kitchen and lit one determinedly, taking a long, soothing drag.

* * *

Alin stared down at the keys in his hand, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. _How the hell am I going to tell Aleks about this? Or maybe I should tell him nothing until... until what? Until they put me in cuffs and take me away? _The police had told him that effective that moment he was forbidden to leave the city, because they were all currently under investigation. That bastard Karpusi had played them all exceptionally, Alin had to admit that much. Beilschmidt had told him he was sorry, but there was nothing he could do aside from providing him and the two interns with a lawyer. And Roderich Edelstein had nearly passed out when Ludwig had informed him he wouldn't be playing the piano anymore where he was going, thanks to his stupidity.

Well, he couldn't stand in front of his own door forever, that was for sure. Drawing a short breath, the Romanian walked into the small apartment hoping that his stepbrother wasn't at home. Maybe it was one of those days when he'd be out with his friends, or have some extra classes at uni, or something, anything. But no such luck – to his dismay, he heard Elizaveta's voice coming from the kitchen.

* * *

"_WHAT?!_ But what the hell have you done, Alin?" the Bulgarian shrieked in shock at hearing the gloomy news his younger stepbrother had briefly delivered in a low voice.

The strawberry blonde gasped, his chest sinking at Aleks' words, but he just gritted his teeth, peeling off his coat furiously. "Well thanks so much for instantly assuming that_ I_ have done something! Did you even listen to whatever the fuck I just said?!" he yelled, marching into his room and slamming the door in his stepbrother's face.

"Hey! Don't you dare shut me off like this! I'm your brother, whether you fucking like it or not! Do you hear me, Alin?!"

But the Romanian had simply slumped down against the other side of the door, sniffing and with his head beginning to pound. This was so bad, so _fucking_ bad and unfair! And Aleks... maybe Aleks was just scared, or he was- But right then something almost like an explosion resounded very close nearby, making the blonde jerk away from the door instinctively. He stood up eventually, on shaky legs, alerted by the shouting he could hear outside and opened the door.

The door of their apartment was slightly ajar, the portion where the lock had been now carved out from the splintering old wood. He advanced cautiously, back to the small kitchen, where he saw a rather petite girl with white-blonde hair currently holding a gun pointed at Aleks and his girlfriend. Alin instantly recognised her. _Natalia Arlovskaia_.

"Time's up, green eyes," she drawled, watching the Bulgarian intently. "You've got to pay us. Now!"

"Look... Natasha... let's talk it over, yeah? I've only got two hundred pounds, but I'll raise the rest and... we'll pay you everything, okay?"

The girl laughed sinisterly. "Two _hundred_? No, no, no love, see, it doesn't work that way at all! Pay up now, all that you owe to us, or I'll blow your cute little brother's brains out right now!"

Alin blinked and gulped, feeling a sudden surge of adrenaline as the gun was now pointed at him. WHAT THE HELL WAS _THIS_?!

"Get over here!" Natalia growled, gripping the arm of the confused young man and pulling him closer, holding the muzzle to his temple. "This is serious, do you understand, Georgiev?"

Then everything happened in a sort of bizarre slow motion. Elizaveta suddenly screamed and the Bulgarian picked up a chair by the backrest. Aleks yelled something as the legs were hurled straight in Natalia's face, making the gun fly from her hand. It landed on the floor and discharged, causing some more screams while the tiny blonde stumbled from the blow and into the miniscule balcony adjacent to the kitchen.

Alin was lying on the tiled floor where he had landed after his brother had hit Natalia, his ears still ringing from the gunshot. His hand rose shakily to where he'd bumped his head, not knowing what to think anymore.

"My God! Alin, are you alright?" Aleks and Elizaveta pulled him up to his feet as the former briefly inspected him.

"W-where is Natalia?" the strawberry blonde asked faintly, licking his dry lips as the Bulgarian turned and eyed the balcony with a horrified expression.

"Um..." He walked outside and stooped over the railing, then turned slowly, shaking. "I think you should call an ambulance..."

"OH MY GOD!" Elizaveta cried, covering her hand with her mouth. "Is she dead?!"

Aleks scrubbed a hand over his face and quickly shook his head. "No... I-I don't think so... it's only the third floor and she hit the trash cans so... Just, please call an ambulance! Now!"

The Hungarian hurried to make the phone call, while Alin simply slumped down into a chair, staring blankly at the wall. "Aleks... do you owe money to Ivan?" he asked eventually, not looking at his stepbrother. The Bulgarian simply collected the fallen chair off the floor and sat it right, remaining silent. "How much?"

"Listen, I-"

"_How much_?"

"About three thousand... Look, Alin, things have been tough for me too, you know? You've no idea how tough the exams are, and the practice hours at the hospital and I... I don't even know when it started but... it's not such a big deal, your friend Lukas does it too, you know? The snorting... and I thought I could pay him, honestly!"

The Romanian nodded slowly. "Three thousand pounds is more than I make in...four months, Aleks. But it doesn't matter now, because not only you owe Ivan fucking Braginsky three thousand pounds, you've also put his little sister in the hospital, so basically he will just walk in and kill us. He'll fucking kill us, because you had to spice your yoghurt, you fucking tosser!" he suddenly shouted, jumping from his chair. "Do you understand?! We're DEAD! This is his fucking turf! The whole of London is his turf, for all I know!"

"W-we need to leave! We need to just pack right now and leave, go back! We need to-"

"Go back?! Go back where, idiot?! Go back to Romania? To Bulgaria? What, you think he won't find us there?! He's part of a fucking _network_!" the blonde snorted. "Not to mention, I can't leave the city now, can I?"

"Well we can't bloody stay here!" Aleks yelled in turn. "He'll kill us! He'll fucking kill us!"

Raising his hands in defeat, Alin turned his back on his stepbrother, heading for his room. "I've got to go to my other job, while I still have it. Handle this, yeah? I don't care! I don't fucking care what you do!"

* * *

By the time he had reached the offices of the Magic Club, Alin's anger had turned to sheer despair as the realisation of just how bad things were, monumentally so. To say that his life was utterly destroyed, everything he and his brother had worked for ever since they'd left home, was an understatement. It was so unfair, so unfair! Aleks had decided they should all move to Elizaveta's apartment - since she owed some of the money as well - and the two of them were to pack everything while Alin was at work. But it was only a temporary solution, Ivan would probably find them in no time.

"I never thought that goody-two-shoes Bulgarian could turn out to be a violent person," Lukas observed, handing a red paper cup to his friend who was currently slumped in one of the old armchairs, sniffing and swearing unintelligibly. "You need to drink this, it will help"

"W-what the fuck is this?" the Romanian asked, staring at the uncertainly coloured liquid. It didn't smell familiar either.

"It's just a meth cocktail. Come on, it will do you good. Does me good when I'm nervous"

"'Meth' as in _methamphetamine_? How the fuck will this help me?!" Alin cried, pushing the cup away. "I'm fucked, Lukas, don't you understand? I'M ABSOLUTELY FUCKED!"

The Norwegian rolled his eyes, reaching out to caress his friend's hair. "Look, love, I know you're fucked, but there is a way to un-fuck you, trust me. Arthur isn't here today, so you should take advantage of it. Just drink this and when you'll feel better you need to summon a Grim. It's really simple, you saw how"

The strawberry blonde took a sip from the cup at last, grimacing and glancing over at Mathias – now dressed more adequately in jeans and a t-shirt - who sat comfortably into the other armchair, currently playing on Lukas' mobile. "Are you crazy? I don't want to summon a fucking Grim!" he whispered angrily.

"Really? And who's going to handle Ivan when he comes after you, huh?" the pale blonde replied, shoving the black magic book in his hand.

* * *

_Fuck! This is such a stupid idea! _After Lukas and his Grim had left to take care of Arthur's file and 'give him some privacy', Alin had finally decided to summon a Grim for himself. He leafed through the sinister 'catalogue', looking at the pictures and finding them one more gruesome than the other. Kohler didn't look so scary now, he pondered, but everyone else in the book did. The pictures were in fact nothing but coloured drawings, so maybe they weren't very relevant anyway. The strawberry blonde eventually stopped at a page showing a soldier in a fancy blue 1700's Prussian uniform, proudly holding a bloody sword in his hand. Alin briefly read something about the Silesian Wars in the description, but did not bother with the rest of it.

"This one will do..." he grumbled, tearing up the page and busying himself with the preparations reluctantly. He really wished Lukas hadn't left him alone to this task.

_Now how the hell was it, spit into the flames and... summon? Or.. oh hell... _Alin frowned at the stinking blue flames and spit, then squinted at the piece of old, yellowy paper in his hand. "And thus I summon thee, Gilbert Beil-...What? _Beilschmidt_? Is this a joke?!" he cried perplexed, accidentally dropping the page which was rapidly sucked into the flames.

"FUCK! No, no, stop! This is a mistake-"

But then there was a powerful explosion and Alin was thrown on his back, choking in the disgusting smoke. When the air cleared once more, the blonde's gaze landed on a pair of black boots with large silver buckles. Gulping, he sat up and glanced north of the boots, past the neat slacks and the long coat and expressly ignoring the gleam of the sword hanging on the Grim's hip, meeting the gaze of a pair of eyes as red as his.

"Are you the wizard?" the man asked, glancing down at him curiously. He was young, but his hair was white as snow and when he spoke Alin noticed that his teeth were quite sharp.

"W-what?"

"I asked – are you the wizard?" the Prussian repeated, scowling some as the other young man made some efforts to collect himself from the floor.

"I-I'm afraid it's been some terrible misunderstanding... I'm t-terribly sorry! M-my apologies!" Alin stuttered - absolutely horrified – and he instantly darted towards the door, opening it at top speed and slamming it in his wake as he made himself scarce.

_**To be continued**_


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

A/N – Hello my awesome readers! (Finally managed to come up with some new introductory line LOL) Since I'm pretty much as uninspired as always when it comes to author notes (although someone once told me that they're very important for making oneself known and appreciated by readers and thus making me feel all the more stupid for that reason), I will just say... um... enjoy!

* * *

"Are you planning on getting out of there anytime soon? I thought you were in an awfully hurry to get to work!" yelled Aleks, banging on the bathroom door, the sound muffled by the buzz of the shower. "Come on now! I actually made some toast!"

But his younger stepbrother didn't hear him, completely absorbed as he was, caught in a rather morbid fascination with his own left wrist now bearing a tattoo in the shape of a large, black eagle with wings outspread and sharp claws. _The Grim's mark._ It had to be that, since it had simply appeared out of nowhere the previous night. He'd panicked at first upon seeing it, to such an extent that he'd tried to rub it off, but of course it wouldn't come out. Thanks to Lukas and his own moment of weakness, now he was stuck owning an evil spirit for the rest of this days... although judging by the mark imprinted on his skin, perhaps it was the Grim who owned _him_... But it didn't matter, nothing seemed to matter anymore, at least for the moment – he felt nothing but a rather pleasant numbness for the time being. The Romanian guessed it must have been some weird way of the brain to cope with extreme stress.

Eventually stepping out of the shower and pulling on some clothes, Alin stumbled like drunk into the kitchen and plopped down at the table, propping his aching head in his hands. The blonde felt horribly tired and a bit nauseous. He'd gotten some really rough sleep, full of nightmares, after running all the way from the Magic Club without looking back and without as much as stopping to catch his breath. Oh, okay... maybe he'd stopped at some point to throw up. And now there was some actual breakfast on the table aside from the usual coffee and yogurt – toast, cheese, ham and even some raspberry jam courtesy to this being Elizaveta's kitchen - but he couldn't touch anything.

"You know, just because things are bad, that doesn't mean you should allow yourself to spiral down to complete shit," Aleks stated. "Just look at you now! And you should have seen yourself last night – you were all hyperventilating and mumbling something absolutely incoherent about an evil Prussian and a meth cocktail! Seriously, Alin? How are you even going to work today? And you-"

"Would you quit pestering him already?!" Elizabeta cut him off suddenly. "He's upset, we all are!"

"'s okay, I just have to be in the office today but there's no work, because HMRC has confiscated all of our laptops and stuff... Also, our client will come for a meeting with their lawyers and... our lawyers... and... shit. You guys watch yourselves while I'm gone, yeah? Just lock the door and be careful"

* * *

"_That_ was the epitome of stupid! How could you run away from your own Grim?!" Lukas scolded from the other end of the line. "You're the wizard and in exchange for giving your blood you have full control of him!"

The subway train's doors slammed right in his nose and the Romanian let out a grumbled swear. "Oh, are you sure? Are you telling me that you have full control of Kohler?" he said, walking back on the small bench on the platform and plopping down on it, careful not to crease his office trousers.

"... Yes"

"That's what I thought... And he was scary, for fuck's sake, he had red eyes and sharp teeth! And I was drunk and sick and... I panicked, okay? I could think of nothing else but how to get the hell out of there!" Alin muttered into the phone ill-humoredly, ignoring the curious and slightly alarmed stares he was currently getting from the old lady sitting next to him.

"You have red eyes and sharp teeth too," the Norwegian observed dryly.

_Yeah but I'm not scary!... Am I?_ The strawberry blonde rolled his eyes at the comment. "And his fucking name is _Beilschmidt_! Just like my boss! Why the hell does he have the same name as my boss?! It's a fucking joke of the fucking universe, that's what it is!"

A dramatic sigh could be heard from his friend at this. "Calm yourself, love, it's gonna be fine and you'll-"

"Hold on, I've got another call. Yes, hello?"

"Mr. Jones and Mr. Adnan will be here in roughly thirty minutes so for your own sake I _really_ hope you're on the way here..." Feliciano Vargas stated bluntly. "And while you're at it, pick up some Starbucks, will you? Mr. Jones only drinks Starbucks, anything cherry flavoured will do, no decaf and it better be really hot! Do you understand, V?"

"But-"

"Just do it, yeah? I've no time for your attitude right now!" And with that, the Italian hung up on him.

"That's just great! Why the hell do _I_ have to pick up Starbucks now? It's not like _I_'m the sexy, whorish assistant or something! Seriously, who the fuck does he think he is?!" Alin complained while elbowing his way through the crowd literally pouring into the subway train at the morning rush hour.

At the other end of the line Lukas burst into laughter."It it precisely because _you're not_ the sexy, whorish assistant that you have to do all the work, obviously! If only you could realise your true potential, mate... Anyway, apparently Arthur's called in sick today so soon as I manage to escape my own slave driver of a boss, Mathias and I are heading downtown to get ourselves absolutely wasted. I suggest that instead of going home to your depressing and very-much-in-a-relationship stepbrother you come with us, at least you'll be safe"

"Okay, sure"

* * *

Even the weather looked gloomy today. Alin was sitting down on the floor in the small balcony of the office kitchenette, smoking again. There wasn't much else to do while waiting for the meeting to end and he was only hoping the lawyer sent by their contracted law office would actually bother to talk to him and the two interns as well. One didn't have to be a genius to know how things would unfold – Adnan&Jones would probably say something along the lines of 'Oh well, we are foreigners and not familiar with the UK fiscal regulations, which is why we have employed a local accounting firm to handle the tax returns and everything. And you screwed us! Clearly you had an accomplice inside our company - the one you must have split the money with and we'll have him found and brought to justice – but _you_ screwed us and you'll bloody pay for it!' _That lawyer looked like a twat too... I doubt he'll be of much help..._

Suddenly Alin's gaze was drawn to a small yellow chick perched on the metal railing, right in front of him. Involuntarily, the strawberry blonde scowled at the sight – there was something strange about the bird, despite its candid cuteness. Its feathers were a striking shade of golden, in complete contrast with the metallic grey environment of the City and its tiny body was _absolutely_ _round_ - such that it resembled a ball of fluff - and the small, beadlike eyes staring at him inquisitively were a bright red. _A familiar bright red..._

The Romanian tossed away the spliff bud and squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his forehead, rubbing forcefully with the tips of his fingers. _That's just ridiculous, I must be going crazy_ _or something_... _The Grim would be a black eagle, right? _So it couldn't have been the Grim, clearly. He made a move to look at the tattoo on his wrist again, but instead only pulled his sleeve down more and when he looked up again, the chick was gone.

_Okay, that was weird... but the Grim must be there somewhere, lurking in the shadows, waiting to confront me. _Alin shuddered at the thought of the scary Prussian soldier. _And Lukas is right, now he must be pissed at me too! But it's not like he can do anything to me, can he? Thank goodness he's not here now at least._

His gloomy train of thought was brusquely interrupted when the blonde heard voices inside in the hallway and he stood up, quickly brushing his trousers and straightening his tie. Ludwig was ashen, to say the least, while Mr. Adnan shook his head, looking quite upset in turn. Only his American partner seemed completely oblivious to the situation, donning the most obnoxious smile the Romanian had ever seen, at least until he stopped abruptly in front of Feliciano on his way out.

"Dude, I wanted a _decaf_ latte! Why can't you folks carry out even the simplest tasks?! It's unbelievable!" he observed with a blatant snort. "You know, Mr. Beilschmidt, maybe if you had hired _qualified_ people, this wouldn't have happened in the first place"

Alin had never felt such a strong desire to punch someone in the face as he now wanted to punch Alfred F. Jones. His fists clenched in his pockets but his expression remained the same as the American walked out the glass doors accompanied by his partner and their lawyer. They were almost immediately followed by their own law firm's representative, who had conveniently put tail between legs and 'really had to go back to the office now'. _Just fantastic!_

"I thought you said _no _decaf," he murmured through gritted teeth, turning around sharply to face the Italian and barely able to contain his annoyance now, only to be patted on the shoulder by a very calm Feliciano.

"Oh chill, he was just being a first class wanker right now. I know for sure that he never drinks decaf. You see V, you may be a stupidly hard-working, goody-two-shoes, harmless little nobody, but at least when you die, many years from now, it will be in your own bed and of natural causes. Which is more than I can say about Mr. Jones, I'm afraid. My big brother Lovino always said that you can only annoy so many people until someone decides to put a bullet in your skull. Just saying, ve..."

* * *

Sipping slowly on his shot of vodka instead of downing it as he'd done the other five (or six?) before it, Alin was currently reflecting on the possible nature of the relationship between a contracting wizard and their Grim. He wasn't sure if 'relationship' was a good word for it, although if he were to observe Lukas and his Danish Grim closely, as they swayed to the rhythm numbed by alcohol, Mathias' hands resting casually on the pale blonde's hips, they looked very much like a couple. Lukas had openly disclosed that they were having an affair, as it was, although it had been what... two days? And he claimed it had all happened very naturally. Somehow Alin failed to grasp how stepping in your shower in the morning and ending up having sex with someone who had died five hundred years ago and had been magically resurrected was in any way _natural_, but whatever, it wasn't any of his business. He could see the angle though, clearly, Kohler was very attractive, probably as part of his job description or something.

Maybe his own Grim had dumped him or something after his rude exit, the strawberry blonde thought downing the rest of his drink._ Heh, maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing after all... _He knew he was completely shitfaced by now, but it was such a welcomed feeling in the middle of his own personal hell, however short-lived and fake, a feeling of freedom. The Romanian reached to the pack of spliffs lying on the table, his gaze trailing back to the dance floor and his fingers froze in mid-air. There, amidst all the smoke and blinding lasers alternating with obscurity, elbowing their way through the crowd of dancers, were Berwald and his gang. But this time there were several men with the tall, bulky Swede, not just Tino and Emil.

"Shit!" Alin murmured, staring, all the dizziness suddenly gone.

The Islander pointed at Lukas and then at him and said something to Berwald. The Swede turned to the blokes behind him and curtly pointed with his head in their direction.

"Oh... FUCK..." The Romanian's eyes widened in horror and he gulped, noticing that Kohler's axe was nowhere in sight this time. No doubt the Dane could take down Berwald's ruffians with his bare fists, he was a bloody _Grim_ after all, but he would protect Lukas, after all this was what he was 'paid' for. At any rate, things were going to get very ugly and nobody would be protecting him. And they were most likely gonna split up to make sure they got both their targets.

Alin slipped from his chair, instantly cursing his rather unsteady legs, and headed towards the exit as fast as he could, pushing his way through the crowd. He needed not look back to know Berwald's ruffians were already in pursuit. The Romanian desperately tried to hurry and slip through the people to make a quick exit, only to roughly bump into someone and have a pair of arms grab him as he nearly fell backwards.

"Hey! What the fuck?! Let go of me!" he demanded, his voice now muffled as his face was pressed against the fabric of his captor's shirt. The strawberry blonde struggled and thrashed, as much as his drunken state allowed it, but to no avail. The man had him in an iron grip and he was being pulled now towards the exit against his own will. He had no doubt it must have been one of Berwald's blokes as well, purposely meant to block their exit should they try to escape. _They're going to kill me! They're going to fucking kill me!_

"There you go," the man suddenly said and Alin's feet safely touched the ground again as he was put down. They were now in the back alley behind the club and the cold night air woke the younger to some extent. "You really looked like you needed some fresh air"

Blinking, the blonde realised that the heavily accented voice was quite familiar. He glanced up at the man, being met with the same inquisitive red gaze from before. _Oh, I see. Now _the Grim _is going to kill me. _He had to admit that he looked somewhat better now. He wore slim black jeans and black boots and a dark green hoodie over a black-and-white striped t-shirt. The large hood, which seemed to have some rather funny looking wolf ears of the same fabric attached to it was pulled up, revealing only a few silvery bangs of hair. Actually Alin noticed that he was quite handsome, fact only accented by the unearthly paleness of his skin. _Of course, he's a blasted Grim after all!_

"Y-yes... thank you," he stuttered in reply and instantly wanted to slap himself. Nervously, the blonde ran a hand through his now badly ruffled hair and cleared his throat. "Look... um... Gil-bert...I'm really sorry about last night, I-"

He was cut off abruptly when the back door was slammed open and Emil came out, followed by three bulky blokes. One of them was impatiently swinging a metal rod in his hand.

"There, the smaller one. He hit me," the boy said, pointing at Alin.

"Um, Gilbert? I think we need to run... Like, now!" the strawberry blonde stated, grabbing the Grim's hand and trying to pull him away from the approaching gang. Much to his horror, the man didn't budge.

"Kesesesesesese, someone hasn't done their homework, otherwise you wouldn't say that," Gilbert replied amused. "But the awesome me doesn't run"

_Did he just say 'the awesome me'? Is this guy for real? And what the fuck did he mean by 'homework'?_

"Look mate, just get out of the way yeah? We've no business with ye and yer cutie over there won't be half as cute when we're done with him," one of the ruffians pointed. "So just be a good lad and don't push yer luck or it's gonna hurt. Badly..."

"Let me tell you something about that football team you're so fervently supporting, _mate_," the Grim retorted, "It's got shit game and shit firm. Now that's not a rare combination, but it certainly is unfortunate!"

"Oooooh, ye're a big-mouthed smartass, aren't ye laddy? Well, ye had yer chance and ye missed it too!" Saying that, the man pulled out a gun and pointed it in the Prussian's face.

_It's okay... it's okay... Grims can't be killed by guns, right? _Alin thought reassuringly, despite the fact that his knees were getting weak and his stomach revolted. He probably needed to quit drinking, at least for a while. He wasn't unsure as to what had happened in the next second, other than a gunshot resounded out loud, and he could see the ruffian's eyes widening in complete bafflement.

"What the fuck?! What the fuck was that?!" Emil cried, eyeing the steel bullet currently resting in Gilbert's outstretched palm.

"Now the awesome me considers officially challenged," the Prussian said, sharp black nailed fingers closing around the tiny object and squeezing until nothing but a shiny, metallic dust seeped out of his fist and flew in the wind as he opened his palm, wiping the remnants on his trousers. "And _that_ was a very bad move on your behalf, keseseseseseses"

_**To be continued**_


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

A/N – Hello again my awesome readers! You can easily imagine that, since the magnanimous you-know-who has finally appeared, everything will be alright! Or, like someone I know very well guessed, not. LOL

**Warning: this chapter contains graphic violence**

* * *

"_And _that_ was a very bad move on your behalf, keseseseseseses" _

Alin's eyes widened and his back stuck helplessly against the wall as he watched the bloke with the gun discharging it again. Or rather, trying to do so. The muzzle only released a random, un-aimed shot before the man's hand was twisted at the wrist at an odd angle with only a lazy movement on behalf of Gilbert. He dropped it with a horrified scream, while the Prussian took hold of the gun and fired one single precise shot. The body hit the concrete with a dull thud, but aside from the Romanian nobody seemed to notice or care. The other two ruffians lunged forward, brandishing their weapons, which were in turn promptly and swiftly used to bring them down as well. Alin watched horrified, his alcohol clouded brain processing what was going on in some sort of bizarre slow motion. Things eventually made sense for him as Emil pulled out his own gun and had enough time to fire three shots straight into Gilbert's chest. With no effect whatsoever.

The Prussian cackled, catching the Icelander's wrist and plucking the gun from him effortlessly while he roughly twisted the arm, forcing the boy down onto his knees. "I think it's time for you naughty little man to say goodnight now," he said, pressing the muzzle into the middle of Emil's forehead.

"NO! DON'T KILL HIM!" Alin cried, suddenly springing forward, gripping his Grim's arm and trying to get the gun out of Emil's face.

"Why the hell not?"

It briefly crossed the strawberry blonde's mind that if he were sober he probably wouldn't have had the guts to confront the evil spirit so openly. Goodness, what had they done, Lukas and him?! "Because I bloody say so! I am your wizard and you must do whatever I say!"

Gilbert turned his head blinking and threw him a confusedly questioning look which spelled a clear 'What the fuck?'. "But the idea is to send a message here, _master wizard_…" he replied calmly and kindly, as if talking to a small child.

Alin's temper instantly flared at this as the clear irony behind the Grim's words did not escape him, but he pushed it aside for the moment. The Prussian had already killed at least one man – he really couldn't tell judging by the heap of fallen forms and he _really _had not intended things to go this far. And Emil was only a kid so it was more important to stop this madness.

"Oh, I think he's got the message," he said quietly but firmly, glancing into the boy's widened eyes for confirmation. 'Haven't you, Emil?"

The boy nodded quickly, wordlessly, his large purple eyes shining with unshed tears of horror. A pathetic whimper escaped his lips as Gilbert grabbed his collar and forced him up to his feet. "Excellent, keseseseseses…. Now fuck off!"

The Romanian let out a breath of relief as the Icelander swiftly disappeared from view and he saw the Grim tossing away the gun into a trashcan nearby. _Probably a bad idea, the police will find it there… But then again I don't suppose he has any traceable fingerprints… _

The blonde's pondering came to an end as he realised that Gilbert was standing there, behind him, with a vibe of expectancy about him. Reluctantly, Alin turned and glanced up into the ruby red eyes which were once more observing him curiously. _Oh, what the hell?_

"What?" he asked at last, because this silence was rapidly becoming uncomfortable. Not that things could have been 'comfortable' in any way in the presence of an evil spirit. He mentally cursed Lukas and his own idiocy for accepting to summon such a creature.

"Ah yes, where were we?" the Prussian seemed to remember. "I believe we were discussing the fact that you do not appear to have read the contract…"

"What contract?" Alin blurted out before he could actually think. But what contract, his friend had not mentioned any contract per say, other than the blood drinking stuff…

The Grim laughed lightly, flashing a sharp toothed grin. "Well, I suppose that answers my question." But then he moved abruptly, reaching out and capturing the blonde's left arm and pushing his sleeve up with a flick of his thumb. "_This_ contract, namely," the Prussian clarified, running his thumb over the soft skin of the wrist, as if caressing the black eagle mark.

"Well... I know _that_ contract-"

"I'm afraid we shall have to discuss it more broadly than you _knowing _it," Gilbert interrupted shaking his head. "First of all I do not understand very well what kind of wizard you are. I have had a lot of contractors before, but none of them has been quite like you. It is quite perplexing to me how you could have summoned _me_ for issues as mundane as yours, while having no other ambition but to solve problems which other people happen to have caused in the first place"

"What?"

In all truth Alin had not wondered for a second about his Grim's previous contractors, who they were and why they had summoned him. In fact, with all the stuff piling on his head lately, he hadn't spared much thought on the Grim at all. But now Gilbert's words suddenly got him thinking. For someone to be able to summon a Grim, one had to be a wizard - that was to have at least _some_ magic powers to begin with. And yes, throughout history people with such abilities would not have wasted their time and skills trying to lead a normal life – having a mundane job, taking care of family and so on. No, they would have pursued purposes inaccessible to others, sought to obtain power one way or the other, they would have had – like the Prussian had suitably put it – ambitions. And they would have summoned an evil spirit like the Grim to take care of their dirty work and undoubtedly kill those who happened to inconvenience them. _That's just great!_

Gilbert scowled, still gripping Alin's wrist and using his hold to pull the blonde closer. "You seem very confused about what's going on. Are you even aware that every time I do something for you or fix a problem of yours you will have to pay me? Do you even know what the payment consists of?"

The Romanian blinked in irritation this time, was the Grim really thinking that he was a complete idiot who had summoned him by accident, or for fun, or something? "Yes, actually I know that. I have to let you drink my blood in exchange for your services," he said dryly.

"And aren't you taking this a bit lightly?" the Prussian asked, now rather intrigued. "You're saying it as if it's no big deal"

"It's not. I know you can't kill me"

"I can make it very rough though…"

Alin rolled his eyes. "And I don't really care, okay? It's just pain and I've been bullied plenty in my relatively short and uneventful and _un-ambitious_ life, so stop talking to me like I'm the fucking Red Riding Hood!"

Gilbert let go of his arm eventually, scratching his head and pulling his hood back. "Well, that is quite surprising. All of my previous contractors looked all high and mighty – which is far from being your case I might add – and very demanding, but when it came to payment they all, without exception, crapped out and tried to either threaten, cry or whine their way out of it."

The blonde sighed, refraining from pointing out that he had no idea what kind of shit people the Grim had worked for before. "Look, Gilbert, I understand my 'contractual obligations' and I have no intention to try and avoid them, but there will be some boundaries between us. I want to make this clear now, okay? So, for example, I'm not going to fuck you in the shower"

"… in the… shower?"

From the slightly perplexed look on Gilbert's face the Romanian realised that this had come out very wrong. He nervously ran a hand through tousled strands, pulling away and struggling on a better phrasing. "What I meant was… um… I know Lukas and Kohler are quite… close or something, but I don't … do this coupling thing. So you and me being… you know… a couple, nuh-uh. Not going to happen. Is that clear?"

"Crystal clear." Alin rolled his eyes again and muttered a quick swear as the Prussian obviously stifled a laugh.

* * *

The small apartment was sunken in darkness and they both slipped in quietly, making as little noise as possible. Loud snoring confirmed to Alin that his stepbrother was at home and fast asleep in his girlfriend's bedroom, so he made his way towards the 'guest room' Elizaveta had allocated for him, followed by the Grim. The small space was only slightly larger than a closet in his view and cramped as hell and if he were to be honest Gilbert was truly the last thing missing from it.

He closed the door after the tall Prussian and remained standing there, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable as a multitude of questions about his Grim's previous contractors flowed into his mind. For one, he somehow highly doubted that they lived in such shitty conditions.

Gilbert sat down on the bed after a swift look around – there wasn't much to see anyway – and then glanced up quizzically at his wizard. "Is there anything the matter?"

"You think I suck, don't you?" the Romanian blurted out and then instantly facepalmed. _Oh, get a fucking grip on yourself! Who the fuck cares what the Grim thinks about you, for fuck's sake?! It's not like he has a choice, he's stuck with you now and you with him, for the rest of your days! _

"Come here, master wizard." The silvery haired young man grinned and reached out, hooking two fingers into the waistband of Alin's jeans and pulling him forward, literally into his lap. "Actually I think you're unexpectedly cute"

"Hey, what are you-?"

"Let's see if you're so brave now, keseseseseses… Or if you'll start to cry, just like everyone else"

The strawberry blonde tensed, but he did his best to keep an indifferent expression. "As if. I'm not afraid of you"

Gilbert's eyebrow shot up and he shrugged, easing his contractor's hoodie off his shoulders and pulling down on his shirt collar. The sharp, black nailed fingers danced over the soft skin of the other's neck and he tilted the Romanian's head to the side. Some incredible bullshit this was, Alin thought, gulping but still maintaining his composure. He wasn't afraid per say but rather feeling very, very awkward.

And then the Prussian bit him. A sickly feeling started in the blonde's stomach as soon as he felt fangs piercing through his skin and it hurt like hell too. His fingers blindly found the Grim's shoulders and dug into the fabric of his shirt, but still he held back from making even the faintest sound. His grip weakened as the Romanian felt his body growing gradually limp until his hands eventually slipped off Gilbert's solid frame. His eyes closed as his head swam with renewed dizziness. His breathing seemed to slow and it was almost like he could feel his own heartbeat in slow motion.

After a while Alin suddenly realised that Gilbert had pulled away and was now saying something, but he could not hear it. "I think I'm going to be sick," he muttered, only half-intelligibly, "I need to go to the bathroom"

* * *

"Well, that was rather undignified," the Grim observed as the blonde crawled over to the sink after nearly throwing his guts up. Alin fumbled with the faucets, grumbling and completely oblivious to the fact that Gilbert's hands were currently holding him up, after successfully keeping him from banging his head on the toilet bowl earlier.

"Stupid Grim, serves you right... This is all your doing"

"Or it could have been all the funny stuff you've been drinking all night," the Prussian observed innocently. "After all, it's not the first time you've gotten home drunk out of your mind and ended up in this very spot and doing this very thing. Oh yes, see I know all your doings, master wizard..."

_Well that's not good... now he really must think I suck. But why does it matter? Of course it doesn't matter, he's just a stupid Grim! And he's so fucking obnoxious and know-it-all!_

"Come now, we should get you to bed. You must be exhausted." Gilbert picked the smaller young man up in his arms after the Romanian had managed to clean himself up and brush his teeth (sort of) and glanced down at his sleepy face with open amusement.

"By the way, is that the shower you happened to mention earlier, master wizard? Keseseseseseses"

"Get the fuck away from me!" Alin muttered half asleep and completely unaware that he was in fact only snuggling closer into the Grim's chest.

_**To be continued**_


End file.
